


master-mistress of my passion

by BestDeadFriendsForever



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Because I love my dear Rat Boy and his complicated feelings, Between S3 & S4 specifically, Between Seasons/Series, Canon Era, F/M, James Flint is bisexual and y'all can fight me on it, John Silver is bisexual and y'all can fight me on it, John-centric, M/M, Not quite sure if this is a prequel to something else I want to write but like... whatever, Polyamorous Character, Pre-Poly, References to Shakespeare, Shakespeare Quotations, Shakespeare Sonnet 20, Shakespearean Sonnets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 09:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BestDeadFriendsForever/pseuds/BestDeadFriendsForever
Summary: A man in hue, all hues in his controlling,Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.And for a woman wert thou first created,Till nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting,And by addition me of thee defeatedBy adding one thing to my purpose nothing.But since she pricked thee out for women's pleasure,Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure-Sonnet 20





	master-mistress of my passion

            John’s whole body ached as he flopped down into the sand. Usually the grit pressing into his skin would bother him, irritate him more than he already was, but he didn’t have the energy to pay it any mind. And Flint, the bastard, had the nerve to raise a faintly unimpressed eyebrow. “I’m afraid we’re not done for the day, Mr. Silver.” The tone of his voice was teasing and John tried to ignore the way it made his cheeks feel hot.

            John waved his hand. “Half a moment, Captain. Still not used to…” John gestured vaguely to his discarded crutch and sword. He ran a hand over his shoulder and bit back a wince. He could already feel the knots and bruises forming.

            Flint rolled his eyes but instead of arguing he just sat down beside John.

            “You know, I rather think you’re enjoying this,” John said and moved to retie his hair. It was too hot and humid to attempt this with it down.

            “What gave you that idea?” Flint asked innocently, but his small smile was anything but. John just shot him a flat look.

            They lapsed into a silence that felt more and more companionable as the days went on. Despite having fallen into bed with his Captain on occasion, John still felt like he and Flint weren’t quite… friends? But they were partners, almost equals, and that had mattered more to John. And if he only wanted pure companionship, without the uncertainty, he always had Madi. John absently rubbed at his pulse point where one of the few bruises not left by Flint rested.

            Flint’s eyes tracked the movement and John quickly let his hand drop into is lap. Johns wasn’t ashamed of loving Madi, with physically expressing that love, and Flint had never shown or voiced any jealousy or complaint. Yet… John still felt an unpleasant prickle when Flint noticed a lovebite on John, or on Madi, after John spent the night with her. John felt the same sensation when it was Madi noting skin rubbed raw by Flint’s beard, or fingerprints left behind on his hips after he’d come back from a long period at sea. Madi had only questioned if it were wise for John to be involved intimately with Flint as it related to his position as quartermaster.

            John rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “Perhaps we should be done for the day.”

            “I thought you said that since the British would give me no quarter, you wouldn’t either.”

            Flint shrugged and pulled up a long stalk of grass. He shredded it between his hands before glancing at John out of the corner of his eye. “It’s too nice of a day to spend it like this.”

            “And what, exactly, are you proposing we do instead?” John could help the grin that pulled at his mouth.

            “Well…” Flint said and shrugged as he blew out a breath. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”

            John leaned in and hooked an arm around Flint’s neck so he could pull him in for a kiss.

            Kissing Flint was always an _experience_.

            It felt like standing too close to a fire. It felt like approaching a cliff and then standing at the edge. It felt like jumping into the ocean. Then was tense anticipation and then a suffusion of head and, oddly enough, comfort or maybe not comfort but security.

            Flint’s hand had slipped from where he was cradling John’s jaw and into John’s hair, effectively dislodging the tie. John had just swung his leg over Flint’s hip so he was settled in his Captain’s lap, when someone cleared their throat.

            Flint, ever the sensible and diligent one, pulled away to look at whoever it was, but Silver still tried to chase his mouth. He managed to only nip at the corner of Flint’s bottom lip before Flint leaned just out of John’s reach, unless he wanted to upset both their balance.

            “If you both aren’t too busy with John’s lessons,” Madi said, a hint of amusement in her voice, “my mother would like to speak to you about our next steps.”

            “We’ll be right there,” Flint said and nudged at John to move so he could stand. John huffed through his nose in frustration as he leaned over to grab at the boot and pull it back on. Flint’s hand was warm and steadying on his hip. It only served to frustrate John more.

            “She doesn’t want to talk to _me_ ,” John muttered as he slipped the boot on with a wince. “She doesn’t even _like_ me.” John fastened the buckles and then accepted Flint’s hand.

            “I doubt she likes anyone who’s fucking her daughter,” Flint said and picked up their swords in one hand and John’s crutch in the other. “I wouldn’t take it too personally.” Flint brushed a kiss to John’s forehead and John settled, only a fraction, at that.

            John grumbled a little as he took his crutch from Flint’s hand, letting their fingers brush and linger, but he didn’t protest. Flint was probably right.

…..

            They’re well underway when John makes his way toward Flint’s cabin. It’s late, but John knows that Flint will be awake. It seems like he hardly ever sleeps unless John coaxes him into bed. Sometimes they fuck, sometimes they just sleep curled up together. It’s an odd balance, but it works for them.

            He slipped inside and Flint is sitting there, a book open on his desk, but his eyes are fixed blankly on the wall. John looked over at the wall for a moment, as if to try and find whatever it was that Flint was seeing, before he made a point of making noise, not that he has a choice _precisely_ , before he tapped his fingertips against Flint’s shoulder. Flint blinks, as if coming out of some kind of trance, before giving John his approximation of a smile.

            “Come to bed,” John said quietly and nodded over his shoulder toward the narrow bed. It, in all honestly, was much too small for two grown men, but neither of them paid that too much mind. When John felt the edge of the bed pressed into his thigh, he drew Flint in for a kiss. He wasn’t sure why other than it looked like Flint needed it. He would let Flint take what he wanted from it.

            It started as just a chaste kiss, and Flint even pulled back as if to end it there, but then his hands tightened just a bit around John’s waist and Flint pulled him in again. John sucked in a sharp breath through his nose as he smoothed his hands over Flint’s chest in an almost placating manner.

            As if to quiet the rage and anguish that John knew lay just under the surface of Flint’s carefully crafted veneer.

            Flint’s hands slipped under John’s shirt and just traced restless pattern into the skin there. John’s fingers made quick work of Flint’s belt before he started on the buttons of his own breeches. They both made quick work of the other’s clothes after that, though John somehow retained his shirt, and John was comfortably pinned by Flint’s weight.

            It was quick and dirty and left them both with heaving chests and sticky skin. John was catching his breath, his face buried in his arms and the pillow while Flint was on his back beside him, a foot on the floor to keep him from falling. Flint snorted to himself and John, half asleep, woke up a little more to tilt his head to look at him.

            “What?” John mumbled, his mouth feeling cottony and thick.

            “Just thought of a poem,” Flint said and he turned onto his side, gently pushed at Silver to do the same so that they could both fit comfortably.

            “What is it?” John asked around a yawn. He tucked himself into Flint’s chin and pressed an uncoordinated kiss against the freckles that dotted Flint’s shoulder.

            “Get some sleep, it’s not important,” Flint said, his own voice sounding like he was starting to drift off. John merely hummed and listened to the slowing beat of Flint’s heart and fell asleep.

…..

            John woke up to the reddish-purple half-light that was sunrise at sea. He couldn’t place why he was awake until he felt the brush of Flint’s mouth against the middle of his back, his shirt rucked up as far as it would go with his arms pillowing his head. John tilted his head so he could try and see Flint. Upon noting that John was awake, Flint leaned up so that they were nose to nose. “ _A woman’s face with nature’s own hand painted / Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion-_ ” Flint said before kissing John languidly. He traced his lips down to John’s jaw before he continued with a touch of irony. “ _A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted / With shifting change as is false women’s fashion; / An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, / Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth_ ” Flint’s kisses trailed down to the now-fading bruise on John’s neck and he scraped his teeth over it. John let out a soft breath and arched into Flint’s touch before Flint pulled back so that his breath was just ghosting over John’s skin. “ _A man in hue, all hues in his controlling, / Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth. / And for a woman wert thou first created, / Till nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting,_ ” Flint flipped John over and leaned over him so that their noses brushed. John felt his heart picking up in his chest as he arched up to kiss Flint. His hands itched to touch so he started to lift them, but then Flint’s hands were pressing his wrists into the bed. John pulled away to look at Flint’s hands holding him down and raised an eyebrow. Flint, as always, didn’t explain but when he let go, John had the impression that a command had been given. Flint shifted down so that he could kiss lower on John’s body. “ _And by addition me of thee defeated / By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. / But since she pricked thee out for women's pleasure,_ ” Flint’s teeth were sharp on his hipbone and John tried not to arch too eagerly into Flint’s mouth. Flint pressed his cheek to John’s thigh and looked up at him through his lashes. John squirmed at the combination of Flint being so close to his half-hard cock but without doing anything and not being allowed to touch. “ _Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure._ ”

            “Flint,” John said, his voice tight with want. It was all the encouragement that Flint needed.

…..

            They were leaning against the railing on the deck, the sun dazzlingly bright and reflecting off the water, when John finally broke the silence. “What was that about earlier?” John asked.

            “Are you complaining?” Flint asked, frowning a little.

            “Hardly,” John scoffed, his neck and ears burning in a way that made him feel much younger than he was.

            Flint smiled as if he knew exactly how he’d just made John feel. “It was the poem. From the night before,” Flint explained.

            “And what made you think of reciting it in _that_ way?” John asked.

            “Just struck me as the right moment,” Flint said. He ducked his head almost shyly and John just smiled. John hadn’t noticed that he’d started leaning in to be able to hear Flint’s voice, softer and gentle in a way John couldn’t ever recall hearing it, until Flint stopped speaking.

            “It’s pretty,” John said and turned his gaze back out to the open ocean. They were quiet and John just soaked in the sunshine and the warmth that came off of Flint, even through the multiple layers they were both wearing.

            They were stood like that when Dooley came up and had some matter that needed John’s attention. John clapped a hand down on Flint’s shoulder before he followed after Dooley to do his duty as quartermaster.

…..

            When he got to his bunk, there was a folded piece of paper settled in the middle. He huffed, figuring it to be some joke that the men were trying to pull. He sat down in his bunk and unbuckled the boot, propping it up against a beam, before he swung his legs up into it. He unfolded the paper and blinked as he saw Flint’s familiar scrawl there.

            It was the poem that Flint had spoken earlier.

            John’s chest felt tight and he couldn’t help but grin like a fool. He smoothed his fingers over the words, careful not to smudge the ink despite it already being dry. He settled back as he let himself read it over a few times before folding it back up carefully. He tucked it carefully into the inside of his jacket pocket so that it would be protected and close-by.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to read Shakespeare's sonnets for my British Lit class and all I could think about was Flint seducing John with this particular one. I mean... Flint is all about recitations ;)  
> -James


End file.
